Thursday, 26 February 2015

This week I have been informed twice as to the exact nature
of my popularity. On one occasion, in a
meeting to which I was not permitted, a parent told a colleague that “everyone
hates that bloke, and loads of people are going to sign my petition to get rid
of him”. This is the same parent who
shouted at me for sending children out in the rain, and told me loads of
parents felt the same. No-one else
complained (largely because it never happened).

On the second occasion, someone said to me “Mr Willis, lots
of people moan about you, but you just give it to us straight”. He then shook my hand. Once again, this morning, in the rain, every
parent said “good morning” or some such.
(Except one petition wielder.)

Before you worry, it hasn’t caused me any lack of sleep, and
I haven’t been panic eating, merely gluttonous.
Yet, please don’t think I’m being flippant, nor that I don’t consider
the feelings and motivations of the persons involved. However, I think this needs a little
contextualisation and consideration.

Schools are deeply emotive subjects – that’s what makes them
such special places to work and serve (and, let us not deny it, so
stressful). The adults left in charge of
the learning of these amazing children are privileged, and it is only right
that parents (after all, I’m one of them
as well) have one eye and heartstring on this situation. Also, schools are possibly one of the last
few groups where the main customers forge a truly meaningful relationship. Where else do you see someone with that
regularity and frequency, and with whom you will share a deeply important part
of your family’s life?

So it is a relationship – no other way of putting it. Any relationship involves tension and
compromise. Any relationship contains
someone or something that causes friction.
The more deeply you travel into that relationship, and the more
comfortable you become with it, the easier it is to spot those causes of
friction. Furthermore, it also becomes easier
to vent your frustrations or air any tensions.

So, having been head of our school for some years now (it’s
coming up to 7 years) I’ve forged thousands of relationships, and have enjoyed
all but a very few of them. More often
than not, those that are not satisfactory are those where I have to be the
person in the relationship to say no, or to deliver unwanted news, or to make
the decisions that will not be universally popular.

Because of our familiarity, because of the fact that people
see me every day (if I’m here) and because I often have to make those difficult
calls and decisions, people will rail against it. People always complain when they feel
comfortable enough to do so. The key
word there is comfortable; how did that comfort come about? It is due to the closeness and proximity of
the people within that relationship.

Just ask yourself: do
you think I honestly get up in the morning hell bent on refusing applications
for holidays which are, by their very nature, against the law? Do you honestly think that, as I’m brushing
my teeth each morning, I am looking forward with relish to refusing full time
nursery places? For one second, do you
honestly think I enjoy having to tell parents that their four year old has ….
(insert own horror story – mine was when, as a parent, the teacher had to tell
me that my son had been playing cats and dogs and had accidentally bitten his
best friend).

Of course not. However,
sadly, they are part of my job.
Sometimes, people think that my answers are unfair; but isn’t that just
the nature of a relationship? Sometimes
I have to make decisions based on nothing more than the rule of the law and the
principles and guidelines I am expected to follow. I dare say that, to those whom it affects negatively,
there may quite understandably be an aspect of “why me?”

However, every organisation needs someone to make the
decisions. Every large group of people needs
someone who says “no”, with rational justification, otherwise such
organisations falter. It bothers me
intensely that I have to say no to some deserving families and children over
certain aspects of their schooling and life, but it is my role, my
responsibility, and conversely part of the enormously privilege it is to be the
head.

Yet that’s just the big stuff. Sometimes we have to say no because we’re
trying to achieve something much bigger and greater on behalf of every one in
the community. Sometimes, when we have
to say “it’s not good enough” it sounds like we’re enacting a harsh throw back
to the 1970s. Actually, we’re saying so
much more. We’re saying that we value
your contributions as a member of our community, but is this the best you can do, right here, right now? Is this the best you you can be? As with all
other decisions, it may sound harsh, but it is irrevocably rooted in a spirit
of support and empowerment.

Equally, as old fashioned and as disciplinarian as it
sounds, sometimes it is an adult’s job (by which I mean moral role, not paid
employment) to make decisions on behalf of children, e.g., eat yer greens. Guess what – sometimes, kids don’t like that.

So, sadly, unless there is a serendipitous break out of
bonhomie, there will always be tension, which will lead to my popularity rating
always hovering between 0 and 0.5 on the 0-100 scale. Such are the compromises you make when you
sign on the dotted line. And then there’s
the stuff that gets put on facebook about you, which people think you don’t see
and that it doesn’t matter…

A word of caution to this tale – if parents want outstanding
schools and leaders, then they need to love them just a little bit more. Three big headship have recently gone up in
Bristol, and, if my sources are correct, they had one applicant. Not one each; one. Equally, we have gone from having in excess of
100 applications for teaching jobs to being grateful for 15. This job is being made no easier by external pressures. Do you really want to be one of those?

Let me not finish this sounding like a moaner; regular
followers will know that’s not my style.
Look at it like this: if you’ve got a problem, my door is so open it doesn’t
even exist. Come and see me. Talk to me
(and I mean talk) and, if you still feel disenchanted, then I would be
enormously disappointed. However, I will
not bend on the standards we have set ourselves, however high they may be. Although individuals will not like that, and
that is completely within their right, they must remember that there are
hundreds of parents who do agree with us, and who not only want us to keep high
standards, but expect and demand it. All
I’m asking is don’t isolate yourself on the sidelines – come and be a part of
what we’re doing.

Come and look at the hundreds of books that are left on my
desk every week (as I write this blog they contain persuasive arguments about
lunchtimes and national graffiti, year 7 level algebraic equations, geometry
and journalistic writing). Come and
watch a praise assembly (when I’m not doing it, if you’d rather, but the kids
fall out with me every time I miss one – just FYI). Come and join in Making Moves at the Children’s
Centre. Come and see our amazing new
EYFS outdoor space. Come and look at our
displays, at the playpod, at the zone, at acorn class. Come and look at the effect our decisions
have on the lives of the children of Southmead, and the families and community
we are enormous proud and privileged to serve.
Above all, come and do it with us.
No-one can aspire-achieve-enjoy alone.

About Me

I am from Birmingham and married to Sue. We have two drains on our disposable income, called Ruben and Thea, who regret to inform us that they intend to resent our existence for the next 15 years or so, give or take. We live in Yatton, where we have lots of friends, and where we have a million barbeques a year. I play badminton, but try not to run or win, and support the greatest team in the universe - Aston Villa FC, as well as loving a bit of rugby, cricket, golf, tennis, ...